


Lost & Found

by Comingupwithusernamesishard



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Polyamory, Swanfire - Freeform, queenfire, swanqueen - Freeform, swanqueenfire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26841520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comingupwithusernamesishard/pseuds/Comingupwithusernamesishard
Summary: AU where Neal realizes August is full of shit and goes to Storybrooke to find Emma, finding his father, Regina, and Henry in the process; all of the Swanmills feels we were denied.
Relationships: Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan, Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	1. Once Upon a(nother) Time

There were a lot of things Neal Cassidy didn't know. He didn't know how to spell fasetious. He didn't know what the plastic thing at the end of a shoelace was called. He didn't know how to make popcorn in a new microwave and he didn't know where Timbuktu actually was and at this point he was too afraid to ask. He didn't know why people in this world were so obsessed with his and he didn't know why the people in his world had always let him down. He didn't know why his father let him fall and he didn't know why Emma never failed to catch him. He didn't know how he'd met Emma Swan of all people at all, and he didn't know where she was, and he didn't know if she could ever forgive his sorry ass for walking out on her. But there was one thing Neal Cassidy knew better than anything else.

Just like Emma, Neal knew a liar when he saw one.

He realized about 0.2 seconds after the twig in tight pants walked away that he wasn't getting that money back, and Emma sure as hell wasn't gonna see it either. When he tried to contact the guy again to 'fess up, big shock, crickets. So what was Neal Cassidy to do to fix is dumbass decision? 

Consult another liar. Of course.

Neal could count on one hand the people who had ever loved him. Emma could too. She had him beat. In a bad way. Because she had him, a girl named Lily, and...yeah, that was it. Meanwhile he had her, Wendy Darling(stone dead as she had to be by now), his mother(ditto), and one more, one more person he knew would find a fucking way to still be kicking.

And if his hunch was right, Rumplestiltskin was here. In the Land Without Magic. Figure that.

He figured August would never have approached him in the first place if the Dark One wasn't connected to this whole curse business. And Neal knew that if he was, he was using it somehow to get something, and Neal didn't care much what that was, he just had to beat his old man at his own game.

 _Alright Cass_ , Neal thought when the bus dropped him outside the roadside dump where that kid brought Emma so many years ago, consulting the paper she gave him to check, trashed as it was.

_"Why do you want it?" she'd asked._

_"Because you don't," he'd said._

Neal shook the memory from his head. Maybe he should've let her torch the thing. He just... couldn't imagine losing any part of her. 

_And now you have,_ he thought. _Dumbass._

He sighed, taking the steps into the joint and looking around. When he showed the paper to the old lady at the counter, she knew the tale right away; he guessed she didn't see a ton of action on the side of nowhere in Maine. She told him what direction the kid had come from, and guess what? Time to _walk_.

 _Could really use the bug right now_ , he reminisced. _Bet Emma can't even_ touch _it now until she gets out. Not without her bail money._

His blood curdled again at the thought of that August asshole stealing his money-- _Emma's money_ \--but even more so at himself for ever having listened to the turd in the first place; hadn't his father taught him better than that?

He kicked some overgrowth out of his way in a huff.

As time passed, Neal shrugged off his overcoat and tugged it around his waist. 

_Here's hoping that lady's memory's better than her burgers_ , he mused. _Here's hoping a kid could even walk this far with a baby without collapsing. Em always said she was a fat baby. I couldn't see it. But props to that kid._

He wiped some sweat from his brow.

_Here's hoping..._

He didn't know how long he'd been walking when it happened. He just knew he was about ready to collapse when he suddenly felt something--something he hadn't felt in a long time-- encompassing him, nearly suffocating him, and dragging him back to where he began.

_Magic._

He nearly fell flat on the asphalt when he was pulled through, and more so when he saw the whole ass _town_ appear from apparently nowhere, a big fat sign reading "Welcome to Storybrooke!" beside him.

 _Cloaked_ , Neal thought, dragging his feet as he approached the main street. _Of course it's cloaked._

Vaguely, he wondered how Emma would ever find this place that being the case, but then he remember that August guy was probably full of shit to begin with, and he really just wanted a burger to bury his rage and exhaustion.

 _Give me grease for my feast_ , he thought, brow perking as he registered a diner nearby. _If anyone knows where to find a sleaze_ , he reasoned, _it's a waitress at a diner._

One look at this waitress and he knew she'd seen plenty. It was that look in her eye Emma sometimes got that just said "Slap my ass, I beat yours," cloaked in a thick layer of perkiness for tips' sake. Neal slid into the bar as she approached him, a pale girl with red streaks in her dark hair, a black crop Guns and Roses crop top, ripped jean shorts, and red fishnet tights.

 _Emma would like her_ , he immediately thought.

"Wow," she exclaimed. "You okay hon'? Look like ya ran a marathon."

"Don't feel much better," Neal quipped. "Could I just have a soda, please?"

"You're getting water until I'm convinced you're not gonna tip over," an elderly woman snapped from the other side of the bar. "Ruby."

"On it."

Neal grunted at the gesture, but nodded his gratitude.

 _Long time since anyone fussed over me_ , he mused as Ruby slid a tall, sweaty glass of iced water across the counter and he practically drowned himself in drinking the thing.

_But she knows what she's talking about...that's the best water I've ever tasted._

The woman quirked a cocky brow and he smirked.

"Thanks," he conceded. "Needed that."

"Mmhmm," she said. 

"Need a room too?" Ruby asked. "Got an inn next door--we never get any guests."

_Go figure._

"Yeah, uh," Neal said, tipping his glass as though in a toast to good fortune. "...We'll see." He downed the rest of the water, and Ruby probably scooped it up for a refill as he nodded his thanks.

"You visiting a friend? Family?"

"Neither," Neal said, after some consideration. "Just...passing through. Business, you know."

"I really don't," Ruby pressed, handing him another cup. "What kinda business you got in Storybrooke? Nothing ever happens here."

Neal quirked a dubious brow as he tipped back the second glass, considering his next words carefully.

"Heard there was a guy here," he said. "Heard he knows where to find things."

"What kinda things?" Ruby asked, and he considered again.

"Ruby," the woman warned, and eyed Neal. "Just what kind of business are you here for, son?"

Neal winced a bit.

"I...need to find someone," he said. "Someone I'm guessing doesn't want to be found."

Ruby and the woman exchanged a glance, visibly withering.

"Yeah," he muttered. "That's the one."

"Mr. Gold's Pawn Shop."

Neal nearly tucked tail at the name alone. But he knew this was exactly what he was looking for. He sighed, slowly approaching the window...

He pulled back quickly.

 _He looks normal,_ was his first thought. _Why does he look so normal?_

His heart choked on itself when he realized: _this is a Land Without Magic_. The "Dark One" doesn't exist here...but his father does. And maybe...maybe...

He shook the thought away quickly.

 _Maybe nothing_ , he thought. _Maybe I get in there, get him to help me find Emma, and get out of this town and never look back._

Somewhere, somehow, inside him, he knew that couldn't be the case, but he repeated it to himself anyway, over and over, before he'd worked himself up to opening that door, nearly buckling again at the simple sound of a tinkling bell--

"Can I help you?"

Neal froze, and stared at the man on the other side of the counter.

"No," he said. "Oh no. You don't recognize me, do you?"

"Should I?" the man asked, although he cocked his head slightly at the other man, and Neal felt his heart sink, although he certainly hadn't thought a second earlier it could fall any lower.

Neal blinked, examining the man and the man examining him right back.

"Do you," he stopped. "Do you have a son?"

The man blinked, then shrugged.

"Not to my knowledge," he said. "Why?"

Neal blinked at the man again, frowning, searching every line of his face for that familiar lie.

"...No reason."

Neal busied himself examining a nearby antique, staring at the world around him, all remnants, he could tell at a glance, of the world before it. 

_He just couldn't resist_ , he thought, running his hand along the glass containing the bobbles and trinkets.

"Is there something I can help you with?" the man repeated, and Neal nearly jumped.

"Um." He watched him, then tucked his hands into his pockets and tentatively approached the counter. "I uh...I heard you're a man who knows where to find things."

 _A+ mafia movie quoting, ex-thief_ , he kicked himself.

"You heard right," the man said after a beat. "Found my remote in my couch of all places this morning."

Neal smirked sourly.

_Son of a bitch._

"Yeah, I meant something else," Neal said, leaning on the counter. "Like more valuable than a remote."

The man watched him carefully.

"Have we done business before?" he asked, and Neal scoffed.

"You could say that," he said. "Been a while though. Couldn't blame you if you don't remember."

"I remember all my deals," the man assured him, and Neal scoffed again. 

_It's killing him,_ he realized, examining his father. _He can't stand knowing less than anyone else in the room_. He smirked and leaned closer still as his father mirrored the move.

Now he had something to work with.

"Yeah well," he said, "suffice it to say you never held up your end of the bargain." He cocked his head. "And I'm here to collect."

"I remember all my deals," the man repeated, leaning closer still.

Neal promptly pulled away from the counter and casually leaned on a nearby display case as the man cringed, but didn't say anything.

 _If he was winning, he'd tell me to move off his merch_ , Neal noted. _Me: one, Papa: none._

He crossed his arms with a shit eating smirk.

"Then why don't you remember me?"

"You tell me."

"I'm not inclined to." He cocked his head. "But I might be if you help me with something."

"And what might that be?"

"I need to find someone." He pushed off the counter and turned face on toward his father. "And you're gonna help me find her."

The man blinked at him.

"And who is this mysterious woman?" he inquired.

"Nope," Neal said. "Not telling you her name."

"Well that could complicate things," the man mused.

"You're smart," Neal said, pulling the newspaper out of his pocket. "You'll figure it out." He tossed it on the counter, and his father leaned back. "Recognize this?"

The man slowly peeled the paper from the counter.

"Actually," he mused, "this is quite a coincidence..."

"Oh yeah?" Neal said, and he wished he could say he was surprised. His father looked up.

"But I'm not inclined to show and tell until I know whom I'm dealing with," he said, and Neal cocked his head.

"And what do you want?" he asked.

"Your name," he said, and Neal smirked, leaning close.

"Baelfire."

The look that passed through his father's eyes told him all he needed to know. He really didn't remember...but he wanted to.

"Baelfire..."

"What do you know about her," Neal pressed, nodding to the paper now that the man was clearly thrown off his game. 

"Ah yes," he breathed, handing the paper back tentatively as a flicker, a brief flicker of the man Neal recognized from his childhood passed through his countenance. "Not too long ago, our own madam mayor came to me for a child. I placed a boy up for adoption with her, and it turned out his mother was this very babe."

Neal froze.

"She...She has a _child?_ "

"Had," his father said quietly, and Neal stared at him, before promptly tearing the paper away and spinning on his heal to head straight for the door, slamming it behind him as his father murmured to his back, "Come again..."


	2. Apple Cider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal meets his son and his son's adoptive mother. This should go smoothly.

_Now there's this_ , Neal thinks, and could kick himself for not working up a more reverent thought if his legs weren't already dead from a day of walking. He ploughs back into the diner, orders another glass of water to Granny's chastisement, and assuages her protestations by grabbing a room while he's there, overlooking the square; he doesn't even go up to see it before pocketing the key and heading out again with directions from Ruby.

 _The mayor's house. Of course she's the mayor. Now who exactly's the mayor?_ he demands, running through a list of the rulers he knew from his time before realizing that this curse was only as old as Emma, and therefore everyone in this town hadn't been born by the time he left, except, well.

He knows it as soon as he sees it. A great white building with towering windows on either side. He stops on spotting a figure in one--in the one to the right, a woman with her back to him pins a string of letters from the room's door to its closet--he feels like a creep, but he can't assuage his curiosity, he peers around her--

_Henry._

_His name is Henry_.

The woman shifts slightly, then disappears from his line of sight. Neal hardly notices. He doesn't know how long he's been staring at that single word--"Henry"--when he hears the siren.

_Oh shit._

Now, the cop might not be after him, but then, the cop was _definitely_ after him, so this was the part where Neal threw his hood over his head and took off down the street.

 _I swear I've lost ten pounds today at least_ , he thinks, but doesn't have time to narrow down a solid number before the maniac swervs right in front of him and Neal rams right into the side of the car, feeling his breath leave his lungs as he lurches over the roof.

"You have the right to remain silent," a man with an accent begins, stepping out of the car and getting out a pair of handcuffs, taking his sweet time when he realized for once, Neal wasn't going anywhere.

"Yeah, I know," Neal grunts, turning around and letting the sheriff pull his wrists into the cuffs. He tilts his head and realizes the woman from before is standing on her porch, watching from a distance with her arms crossed. Neal smirks. "Hell of a response time," he slurs as the sheriff turns him around and ushers him into the backseat.

"We pride ourselves on quality service," the man said almost mechanically, closing the door and circling around to the driver's seat.

"Yeah, 'we'," Neal parroted. "That why the sheriff's booking a loiterer?"

"We've reason to believe you're under the influence," the man relates as though the words aren't his. "Put back quite a few glasses at Granny's, hm?"

"Of _water_ , yeah," Neal quipped, cocking his head at the other man as he pulled away from the curb. "Hey, what day is it?"

"What?"

"What day is it?"

The man stared a bit blankly into space as he pulled the car back into the road.

"It's Tuesday."

"No it's not," Neal said with a smirk. "Easy to lose track in the middle of a curse, huh, your highness?" he added on a limb--only royalty would ascend to mayoral office, and only someone aware of the curse would be able to perform the kind of magic that would cause a sheriff to arrest a stone sober guy on the sidewalk in the middle of the night--

"Majesty," the man corrected, and Neal tucked his head back with a chuckle, peeling down the bobby pen he kept clipped on the inside of his sleeve.

"Majesty, fine," he conceded, twisting it into the cuffs' locking mechanism. "Listen, I'm not here to cause trouble."

"I find that hard to believe," the man said lowly.

"Well I'm not," Neal persisted, snapping through the mechanism and smirking slightly as he wrestled his hands free, leaning back to make them appear more stationary. "No really, I don't care. See there's someone in this little town of yours whose memory I'd honestly love for him never to get back, 'cause if he did. Well, it wouldn't work out for me."

"And why's that?"

"My business," Neal said. "No, I'm only here to see Henry." The man grew quiet. "The kid."

"What about him?" the man asked, biting each word out.

Neal considered, then leaned forward, giving him just enough room behind him to...

"I'm his father."

Just then, the car turned straight into traffic. Neal tore open his door and rolled out into the road just as a red truck ploughed into the side of the police car. Neal dragged himself to the sidewalk, sitting back to watch in horror the twisted, throbbing heap of machinery in the middle of the road, beating to the systemic pounding of car horns.

"Holy shit," he muttered, pulling himself back on his elbows. He watched as the sheriff dragged himself through the passenger door, falling in a lump on the asphalt; Neal managed to crawl over to get to him.

"Dude--" he panted. "What the hell?"

"I...I don't know," the man breathed as Neal settled him back against the car. "What happened?"

Neal gazed at him, then pulled himself to his feet to glance back at the other driver--he was climbing out of his truck, more or less in tact--it _was_ the bigger car.

Neal stooped back down beside the sheriff as more sirens neared. Seeing his injuries weren't fatal, Neal bit back a laugh, badly.

"What could possibly be funny?" the man demanded, and this time, Neal wasn't sure if it was really him or "Her Majesty."

"No sorry, it's just," Neal started, falling back against the car beside the sheriff as more pained laughs tore through his chest, "it's just...who do ya call when the tow truck and the sheriff get in a wreck?"

The sheriff stared at him, then cracked a lean grin in spite of himself.

"Hilarious."

"Yeah, I know."

"You're still under arrest."

"Yeah, I know..."

_Man, Cassidy, you're really losing it_ , Neal thought, sitting with hands cuffed once again in the hallway, supervised by a nurse. He perked up when a blond doctor stepped out of the room.

"Sheriff Graham's going to be fine," he said. "Billy too. You're lucky."

"Come on, they couldn't pin that one on me if they tried," Neal breathed, and the doctor rolled his eyes before crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, examining Neal.

"Why are you still here?"

"If you hadn't noticed, I'm on tight watch," Neal quipped, nodding to the nurse who looked scared out of his skin and was currently pinning himself to the wall.

"Yeah," the doctor persisted, "but why are you here? Didn't you try to run?"

Neal shrugged. 

"Running gets old." The doctor watched him dubiously. Neal pulled his hands apart to reveal something in his palm which he held up to the light. "Got him something." He jingled the charm. "It's a keychain. Get it?"

The doctor eyed him, but took the gift.

"When did you get this?" he asked, his wariness dangerously bordering on admiration now. Neal shrugged.

"I'd never tell."

Just then, a door slammed somewhere and the three looked down the hall as the mayor herself charged down the hallway, her very presence demanding every eye in the room, and not in the lovey-dovey sense; her black pantsuit contrasted starkly with the white blouse and slacks he'd spotted her in earlier, and the heels of her shoes rang across the whole hallway. 

"What is he still doing here?" she demanded, waving at Neal with barely a glance in his direction.

"We can't put him behind bars without a sheriff," the doctor pointed out, and Neal bowed his head to conceal his smirk; so he really _was_ the only employee at the police department. 

"Well I can," the mayor said, eyeing the nurse. "I should've been called to begin with." The nurse stammered. The mayor cut him off with a wave of her hand. "How about, you two do your jobs, and I'll do mine?" she demanded, and Neal raised his brows at the hospital employees, standing; they slowly backed off. Neal turned to the mayor, who barely acknowledge him before turning on her heels and charging down the hall with the apparent full expectation of his following her. Neal glanced one last time at the hospital workers, the doctor giving him an obvious _I'm glad I'm not you_ look, before following her.

"Car wreck, really?" Neal muttered once they were out of earshot.

"We're not discussing this," the mayor cut him off immediately, opening the hall door for him. He eyed her before obediently stepping through, her tailing him now to keep any eye on him, and that she thoroughly did; he could feel the daggers she was glaring into the back of his neck as surely as though they were drawing blood.

"Well what do you wanna discuss?" Neal wondered casually allowed, gearing to turn the tables back best he could, as well as his father'd taught him, if with the well sharpened weapon of sarcasm rather than the dagger. "Nice curse, huh?"

He'd reached the front door of the place, and as soon as he'd stepped out into the parking lot, she had him pinned on a wall, just out of the periphery of the streetlight security cam, blocked by the entrance awning.

"I'd suggest caution in your next words," the queen hissed lowly. "In fact, we're already at a hospital; why don't you right now what's stopping me from making your visit a permanent one?"

Neal chuckled, chest throbbing slightly against her arm pressed from shoulder to shoulder.

"Tell the truth, how many comic books you been readin' since you got here--?"

" _Answer_ the _question,_ " the woman reiterated, pressing more weight against his chest so he could feel the breath leaving his lungs, stars crossing his gaze as his the cuffs burnt his struggling wrists.

"I'm Rumplestiltskin's son," he rasped, and she immediately released him, stepping a couple feet back as though he were contagious to boot. Neal sucked in a steep breath, nearly doubling over; shit, forget whatever he said about losing weight earlier, he was still out of shape...

"What did you say?" she demanded.

"You heard me," he bit back, rubbing his chest as he struggled to stand upright again. "It was hard enough to say the first time..."

She stared at him.

"If you're wondering how he got laid, I can't answer that--" he started, and she cut him off quickly with a toss of her hand.

"And how does this change anything?" she challenged, countering or attempting to counter her momentary shock with a threatening step back in his face. "Why shouldn't I kill the son of my oldest enemy?"

"Couple reasons," Neal said, raising two fingers to demonstrate matter-of-factly. "If you killed me _now_ , when he doesn't have his memories, it wouldn't mean anything, and your revenge for--whatever-- would be void; and even if he did get his memories back, and found out you _had_ , you wouldn't live through the day."

She blinked at him, and Neal bit back a grin at how the truth registered in her brown gaze. She stepped back slightly.

"He's the one you don't want to remember," she registered, eyes wide.

"He's the one I don't want to remember me," Neal corrected carefully. "But I'm not here for him. I'm here for Henry."

She stared at him.

"This is unbelievable."

"You're the one who cast a world-bending curse," Neal pointed out, and the woman scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. For a moment, there was a string, just a simple moment where the scoff was nearly a laugh, where their lives were nearly connected and they realized something greater than them had brought them together.

But then they both knew that was bullshit.

"Fine," she said, any semblance of humanity leaving her calloused eyes as she approached him again, grabbing the handcuffs fiercely so the metal bit into his wrists. "I suppose I'll just have to add you to my _collection_."

"Come on, I'm Henry's _father!_ " Neal exclaimed as the woman dragged him, barely fighting, to her car and threw him sideways into the backseat. 

" _No_ ," the mayor snapped, leaning over him nearly horizontally to get right in his face, chest hovering over his, silver necklace barely brushing it. " _I_ am his mother. _You_ are the man who abandoned him."

"I wasn't there when she--"

"Then you _should have been_ ," she snapped, slamming the door before circling to the driver's seat.

"Yeah," he muttered to the car ceiling. "I should have."

She slid behind the wheel and pulled her seatbelt across her. 

"I know I should have been," he continued as she cranked the car without a glance back. "And I know I wasn't, and I know it was her choice--but--but I just didn't know, and it's crazy, I didn't know him, and--and I want to!"

She hesitated but pulled the car out of the lot. He hardly noticed. His eyes burned.

"I can't believe it," he muttered. "I'm just--I'm just shit! It's shit! He needed me, and she needed me, and I wasn't there--just like..."

She fully faltered now, pressing the brake without thinking about it at the entrance of the lot, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.

He scoffed and looked at the ceiling, trying to blink the tears back so she wouldn't see; she had.

She blinked herself, straight ahead, before pulling into the street.

Neal stared up at the ceiling for he didn't know how long, barely registering when she pulled up to a curb and got out. He glanced her way, wondering what sort of nut house she'd brought him to, before she suddenly ripped open the door and stooped over him again, grabbing his handcuffs and pulling a ring of skeleton keys from her blazer pocket.

"What--"

"Don't push it," she snapped, wrenching the cuffs open with one of the smaller keys and stepping to the side as he pulled himself up and out of the car--to see her house again.

He looked at it, then looked at her.

"You serious?" he breathed.

"Five minutes," she said curtly, arms crossed, and he practically ran to the door as she rolled her eyes to conceal her surprise at his eagerness, bumping the car door closed with her hip and following him as she pocketed the keys again. She opened the door for him, and led him up to the nursery she'd been decorating that afternoon when he decided to spy on her and her young son; the people she let in this house, she swore.

"Four and a half," she pressed, checking her watch when he froze in the doorframe; this shook him awake, and he walked carefully to the cradle, supervised just now by a woman with cropped black hair. She looked their way.

"Madam Mayor," she stuttered, standing, but Neal spared her barely a glance as his eyes locked on the sleeping baby in the cradle.

"You're relieved, Miss Blanchard," the woman said, slipping the mousy woman a check before ushering her out. Neal leaned over and picked up the child; he was so warm, and light, and...perfect. He squirmed a little at the sudden movement, eyes just like Neal's meeting his own.

"Hey little guy," Neal whispered, shushing the babe's concerned grunts as he held the child to him.

"You're...really good with him," the mayor noted, tucking her fingers in her pockets and leaning against the nursery wall.

"I've known a lot of little boys," Neal returned vaguely, bouncing the boy a bit and humming a broken tune under his breath. He glanced over his shoulder. "Is...is that my time?"

She stared at him, then stood upright, arms crossed.

"You know," she said, "that woman who just left?'

"Uh--yeah? Seemed sweet," Neal said.

"I hate her like the plague," the mayor deadpanned. "I need a new nanny."

Neal stared at her.

"You mean--"

"You would live here," the woman interjected. "Where I can keep my eye on you, and look after Henry while I'm at work." She stepped toward him dangerously. "And he would never know."

Neal blinked at her.

"You've got a deal."


	3. Baby Talk

Neal was so busy staring at the kid after the decision was made that he didn't notice the mayor had gone until he heard the screeching across the hall floor.

He turned and stared as the woman dragged a cot halfheartedly into the room.

"Is that mine?" he asked.

"No, it's his," the woman snapped, out of breath, eyes darting nearly accusatorily toward Neal when he snorted.

"Fair enough," Neal said, lowering the boy carefully back into his crib before walking over; like magnets of the same charge, as soon as he drew near and plopped unceremoniously onto the cot, she swept away, going for the closet and reaching for something on the top shelf. "I've slept worse places. Ever slept on hay?"

" _Hay?_ " Regina huffed, pulling a quilt down from the closet.

"Hay, how are ya?" Neal quipped, and the woman looked at him, first questioningly, then with clear exasperation. She tossed the blanket at his chest.

"I'll have the guest bed ready tomorrow," she said, going for the door.

"What, is it messy?" Neal asked, spreading the blanket across his cot. She stopped at the door.

"Not the bedroom," she said, waving vaguely at the empty space in the room. "The _bed_."

Sure enough, the next day, Neal held Henry in the hall as the mayor directed some poor blokes from downtown tasked with breaking down the guest bed and putting it back together in the nursery. Neal watched in awe the way the woman bent them to her will with a wave of her hand.

 _Majesty_ , he thought. _No doubt about it._

Part of him remembered another kind of power, a flick of a wrist, yellow teeth, scaled skin--

He shook his head and went down to the kitchen, pouring the guys some water when they finally came down on their way out.

When he returned, he found the queen herself making the bed.

"There," she said, plopping down on it, clearly wiped out herself. "That should suffice."

Neal smirked, offering her the third glass of water, which she took after a momentary hesitation. He sat down next to her, balancing Henry on his shoulder.

"I appreciate it," he said. "Here. I think he wants you."

She shot him a look, but it melted on seeing the boy was indeed reaching for her; he slipped the glass from her hand as she gingerly took the boy. The child made a gleeful noise that saw both their hearts melt.

"There," Neal said softly. "You're better with him than you think."

She stiffened, then looked at him, a clearly defensive look in her eyes.

"Careful," she said. "Might put you out of a job."

Neal snorted.

"With your work schedule, Madam Mayor?" Neal quipped. "I think I'm safe."

She scoffed with a smirk, looking back to the boy. He watched her.

"He's not made of glass, you know," he said. She whirled on him again. He put his hands up defensively. "I mean. You're not gonna break him, by being here." Her brown eyes bored into his. "You an' me...we don't get second chances," he said. "Or third. Or fourth...or whatever we're on." He huffed, staring at the kid. "But then we do. And it's easy to run."

"I'm not going anywhere," the mayor said, sounding more a threat than a reassurance.

"Me either," Neal said, something halfway in between. "Someday, you get tired of running."

They sat there a while before it was time for them both to get to work.

Of all the crackheaded jobs Neal Cassidy had taken in his lifetime just to get by, a concession stand cashier at a ballpark, a hacktivist(brief stage with Emma before they realized they couldn't handle the tech or the politics), a coffee vendor--a _coffee vendor!_ \--he'd never have imagined that the oddest one of all would be _babysitting his own son_.

Not to mention the most difficult.

"Come _on,_ Cassidy," he muttered, tossing another diaper in the bin by his feet. _You can undo a devil's tongue knot, you should be able to fold a diaper!_

He huffed, tossing the offending article into the bin.

_Of all the crackpotted jobs..._

But he needed it. For Henry...and for Emma.

He'd run the numbers. This woman was paying him, let's just say, more than your average nanny--and at this rate...

_Emma._

Maybe he could fix his mistake. Maybe she'd never want to see him again--and he wouldn't blame her--but, he wasn't going to quit until he bailed her out of that jail he put her in...

He stared at his kid, tossing another diaper away and leaning on the table. 

"What do you make of that?" Neal asked Henry, who only stared at him with those curious round eyes.

The next part he couldn't muster aloud.

_I put your mama in jail._

Neal stared at the boy.

What crap was he feeding Regina earlier? About second chances? Third? Fourth? _Fifth?_

He huffed, dropping on the side of his bed and planting his face in his hands.

_I don't know where she is...I don't even know where she is...how could I get the money to her?_

He was hoping his father would fill in the blanks that jackass Booth wouldn't, but _nope_ , memory wipe!

 _Really gotta read the fine print, old man_ , Neal reminisced, then stiffened.

 _He would_ , he realized, sitting up. _He would read the fine print...and he might even have written it._


End file.
